


Who Ya Gonna Call?

by Beachy



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: (but everything turns out alright), Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Hints of Found Family because I'm gay, Horror Elements, Mystery, Stress (TM), They're all a lil dumb but they're trying their best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27596648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beachy/pseuds/Beachy
Summary: Working on your birthday is never fun, even for billion year old aliens. But when their ship starts to malfunction and Sung and his bandmates are plunged into darkness, it seems like the fates have more in store for the special day, and Sung can only hope there is nothing sinister waiting for him in the dark.
Kudos: 3
Collections: TWRP Big Bang 2020





	1. Your Average Space Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> This is my piece for the TWRP big bang!!! It was such a lovely time working with everyone, and of course an incredibly special thanks to my amazing artist Addie (https://groove-with-me.tumblr.com/) and my mixer Sammy (https://twitter.com/evileidolons?s=09)!! Hope y'all enjoy! <3

_A shining gleam of polished metal speeds through the setting sky on Ladyworld’s horizon, and into the star-speckled darkness beyond it. A spaceship slows as it leaves the planet's atmosphere, now cruising through the inky dark, and within it, four dutiful crusaders off on another diligent mission against the forces of boredom._

_~_

“I can’t believe they’re seriously making us do a _scouting mission_ of all things, on my birthday.” Sung sighs loudly, his hands smushed up and under his visor. 

Slumping further down in his chair, feet almost knocking over the keyboard set up in front of him, he peeks through his fingers around the cockpit to see his bandmates and friends going about their ship duties as usual and largely ignoring his dramatics. 

Sung huffs before whining again, “ _Guuuuys_ , this sucks! Doesn’t this suck?” 

Meouch finally turns his head from the glowing displays at the helm of the ship, looking at the other with equal parts pity and impatience. 

“Okay it kinda sucks Doc, but ya know how fussy the tech team is back on home base, weekly surveys of the different quadrants, same time on the dot or else we’ll get chewed out about it for the millionth time,” he presses one last button on the many screens in front of him then lets out a content sigh, “She’s all yours Angel, take us to the Xion quadrant!”

Meouch takes a moment to stretch before climbing out of the pilot’s chair, grabbing his phone from his pocket, and wandering back into the kitchenette, presumably to chat with Phobos, who’d been fluttering around with something in there just out of Sung’s view. 

A chime rings through the large room. “Will do, Commander. Autopilot course set to Quadrant X-4408.” the robotic, but kind voice - Angel - confirms.

Sung perks up at the familiar tone, “Thank you Angel!” He adds cheerily, and Meouch looks over at him again from across the cockpit. “Sung- she’s a robot, she doesn’t care if you say thank you.” 

“Hey, Havve is a robot, and _he_ appreciates a ‘please and thank you.’” Sung retorts, gesturing in the aforementioned bandmate’s direction.

Havve’s eyes glow a bit brighter as he glances over at Sung and away from the virtual ship system he’d been tinkering with. 

**You of all people know I’m a Cyborg.**

Sung turns to Meouch again with a menacing grin, “Havve agrees. He also says I’m very smart, and right as always,” Meouch rolls his eyes with a smile, and turns back to continue helping Phobos in the kitchen, and although Havve doesn’t respond physically Sung swears he can feel laughter through their bond.

“My pleasure, Doctor.” Angel’s voice ring’s through in delayed response. 

Sung grins a little wider.

He goes to sit up in his chair, maybe flesh out a song idea or two on the keys before they arrive at their first location- when suddenly he’s shoved into the hard metal of the seat, vision blurred, the piercing _creak_ of the ship tearing through the quiet air as it rocks to a halt.

Sung’s face scrunches into one of discomfort and confusion, blinking his good eye as it refocuses and he watches the overhead lights flicker - the entire room bathed in red as the control displays begin to flash in warning.

“I didn’t do it!” Sung exclaims immediately, looking nervously at his bandmates and rubbing at the shoulder that’d just gotten slammed against solid steel. 

A chime rings out again, but the pitch warps and jumps to an ear piercing screech that leaves everyone grimacing in pain. 

“Warning. Multiple ship systems seem to be malfunctioning. All thrusters are down. Please stay seated while I reboot.” 

Sung stands up, wobbling slightly as the ship finally stops noticeably swaying, checking quickly around to make sure no one got hurt in the sudden stop. 

In the kitchen, Phobos is struggling to help Meouch’s larger form off the tiled floor, but both seem relatively unscathed.

Havve is still sitting comfortably in his chair, gaze unfocused like before, seemingly unfazed by the jolt altogether.

Sung begins to walk out into the middle of the cockpit to assess the damage, but whatever the four of them just witnessed, it doesn’t seem to have caused any physical damage, no wrong switches flipped or sparking wires in his sight.

Sung jumps when his senses are suddenly flooded by a cacophony of whispers from what feels like every direction, tinny and sharp that leave his ears ringing. 

It’s completely unintelligible, as though he was hearing a conversation from four rooms away and underwater.

He slams his hands on the sides of his head, attempting to cover his ears instinctively, the cone jostling slightly at the abrupt movement. He whips his head around in fear, desperately hoping that it was one of the others who’d made the strange noise, or that his ears were playing tricks on him.

The other boys all have similar faces of confusion, meeting each other's eyes with mild terror.

The whispers return, and Sung turns around to the darkened hallway leading to the rest of the ship, lit only by a single now-flickering bulb. _Of all places..._

The other’s look decidedly nervous as Sung takes another step in the hall’s direction. “Is.. Is that coming from the engine room?” he whispers, voice tight with fear.

He looks to the others for guidance but they simply stare back at him with concern in their eyes, and Phobos shrugs softly. 

Sung exhales in defeat, before turning back to the pitch darkness of the hallway just beyond him. “I’ll go check it out, if that is the engine room then something is seriously fucked up down there. I really hope the time crystal is fine, I do _not_ want to deal with fixing that again after last time.”

Sung nods once to himself in self-assurance before approaching the end of the hall, and the ship’s elevator.

He presses a hand, shaking slightly, to the elevator’s control screen, waiting for it to illuminate beneath in response.

A second, then another goes by. Nothing happens.

Sung kicks at the glass door of the elevator. “And the elevator’s broken too folks, just my birthday luck! I’ll take the stairs...” he sighs, looking over at the dimly lit doorway to his left. 

Sung takes the first step downwards and a loud creak echoes through the dim stairwell. 

“This is the worst,” he grimaces to himself, before speed-walking down the rest of the way, eager to get this over and done with as quickly as possible.

The basement of the ship is pitch black. Sung runs a hand along the wall next to him, searching for the doorknob to the engine room.

As he’s doing this, he shifts slightly to face the open room he knows must be in front of him, mostly just used as storage for extra music gear and the like. The light off the prismatic core isn't much in such a large space, but for a brief moment Sung swears he can see a figure at the back of the room, standing motionless in the dim blue light cast by his core. 

Sung inhales sharply, holding his breath and unable to take his eyes off what’s in front of him. The figure shifts slightly, then darts out of view. 

Sung lets out a shrill scream of terror and scrambles to get back upstairs, engine room and creaky stairs all but forgotten. 

He sprints back into the relatively better lit cockpit, heart pounding and lungs heavy.

“The ship is fucking haunted. The ship is _absolutely fucking haunted_ and this is the worst birthday ever,” Sung rambles, almost too quickly for the others to catch. 

Phobos is looking at him with great confusion and fear now. Havve still seems relatively unfazed. “I’m guessing it wasn’t the engine roo-”

There’s suddenly a large, clawed grip on his shoulder and Sung screams again, instinctively grabbing the foreign appendage and whipping around violently, ready to attack.

“Ow ow ow, my arm does _not_ bend like that dude,” Sung quickly lets go as his eyes glance up at Meouch standing behind him, looking at him with a pained grimace. 

“I was just going to the bathroom man, what the hell’s got you this worked up?” Meouch maneuvers himself around Sung’s form to stand back over with the others. 

“Our ship is haunted as hell. There was a ghost... demon… _thing_ in the basement and it's probably out for revenge.” Sung explains, voice climbing higher as he paces around the others, before finally slumping down into his chair again. 

Havve’s head tilts up slightly, looking at Sung with what he understands to be reassurance. 

**I’m sure everything is fine Sung.**

The overhead lights flicker again, then black out completely for a moment. 

They don’t come back on. 

Sung doesn’t even need to say anything for Havve to feel his fear radiating through their bond. 

**It’s _fine_. I’ll fix it.**

His eyes dull again, still entranced with whatever virtual system he’s been working on this whole trip. 

Sung glances over at the other two, now illuminated only by the various lights scattered across their armor. They share a concerned glance with each other before Meouch turns over to look at Sung again. “You didn’t actually make it to the engine room, right? I’ll go check it out best I can, I can see better in the dark anyways,” Meouch explains, getting up and starting to walk down the dark hall.

Sung tenses, “I _just_ said it was haunted as hell down there, man. Do you have a death wish?”

Meouch chuckles to himself a bit, “What, so there’s just an evil demon ghost that lives on our ship now? C’mon, it was probably your eyes playing tricks on you. And even so, we’re Tupperware Remix Party, Groove Crusaders and all that! We can handle a ghost.” he finishes nonchalantly as he disappears down the stairwell. 

The air is still except for the creaking of metal and soft whistling that slowly fades out of Sung’s earshot. 

He turns nervously over to face Phobos, who’s now sitting on the edge of the kitchen island, feet swinging absentmindedly.

“What is Meouch _thinking_? Highkicks don’t work on ghosts!” Sung punctuates with a flail of his arms.

Phobos stifles a laugh, looking up at Sung in all his earnesty, “Who knows, maybe the part-demon makes him susceptible to,” he stops to give a weak kick and what Sung presumes to be a karate chop to the air, “Atomic ka-ra-te” he finishes with an awkward pose and a shiteating grin, and Sung pouts and rolls his eyes at the display. 

“Firstly, that was awful form Phibs I know you can do better than that,” Sung smiles a bit despite himself before steeling himself once more, “Secondly, guys I’m not kidding! The ship is seriously haunted and we’ve already broken horror movie rule number one! Stick together!” Sung whines, arm gesturing wildly at the hall that Meouch has just disappeared down. 

“We are all,” Sung pauses so he can walk over to Phobos, linking an arm around the other’s and dragging them both over to Havve to do the same, before walking them both to the end of the cockpit and against the control panels, “staying put. Right here, until Meouch comes back. Get comfy boys.” He punctuates himself by sitting down on the cold floor, legs crossed and back pressed against the outer wall. 

After a brief glance at each other, Havve and Phobos both reluctantly join him on the ground as well. 

Sung finally releases his grip on his friends’ arms, and shifts slightly to face where Havve has sat down next to him, clasping his hands together with a deep inhale, “You.”

Havve looks up at him from where he was absentmindedly drumming out a rhythm on his legs, head tilted and pointing to himself - drumstick still in hand - in silent question.

“You have been quiet _all_ day today.”

**I mean technically-** “You know that’s not how I meant it. Our souls are quite literally bonded together, you couldn’t misinterpret me if you _tried_.” Sung lets out a goodhearted giggle despite the situation they’ve found themselves in, and he feels Havve reciprocate the gesture.

**I’ve been busy! I was just adjusting some settings before everything went awry, but since then I’ve been focusing on figuring out if the malfunctions are a software issue or not.**

Havve’s eyes brighten slightly, in what Sung knows to be a smile.

**Given I’m the only one of us with the ability to _sync myself up with the ship_ I figured I’d put myself to use. **

“Well have you found anything yet? And could you even detect it if it _was_ something… supernatural?” Sung trails off, giving an exaggerated shudder thinking back to the darkened figure in the basement. Meouch was down there. _Fates above,_ _they had to figure this out-_

Havve’s eyes flicker away momentarily, but return to Sung as he rests a hand on the other’s shoulder, cold to the touch but reassuring nonetheless, grounding his racing thoughts momentarily.

Sung takes a deep breath, letting his body unwind slightly from how it's been so tightly coiled, focusing back on his surroundings just in time to catch Havve’s eyes flicker away again, looking at something just beyond him. 

Sung narrows his eyes at Havve, and as glowing red eyes return to see Sung’s own suspicious gaze on him, he goes to speak, but Sung has already brushed his hand away and turned to see Phobos, almost fully submerged in the darkness far away from them, back turned and headed in the direction of the kitchenette. 

Sung whips his head back to Havve, whose eyes are shrunken in what can only be described as sheepishness at Sung’s expression, “Havve why didn’t you say-” **I was just about to!**

Sung’s fists clench in frustration and panic as he turns back to Phobos who’s now starting to disappear from view.

Sung grits his teeth and yells into the dark, “Phobos-” 

He winces as his voice echoes through the quiet of the ship, sparing a moment’s glance at the dark hallway looming just to his right.

He starts again, this time whispering as loudly as he can manage, “ _Phobos! Phobos where are you_ _going!”_ He inhales sharply, mind running through countless possibilities of what could be waiting for them in the dark.

“This is so stupid,” he turns back to Havve as he climbs up from his crouched position on the floor, pointing to the cyborg with renewed purpose. “Stay here. I’m going to go drag Phobos back here. I will be _right_ back.” Havve nods reluctantly, looking worried. 

Now up on his feet and with only the faint light of the core to guide him, Sung begins walking, one cautious step at a time, towards where Phobos had run off, arms up in a defensive position. 

Every few feet or so Sung glances around himself, core illuminating the nearby ship equipment, but no signs of his friend - or the mysterious figure, for that matter - in sight.

A loud crash, like a large metal object being thrown to the floor, rings through the stale air. Sung jumps a foot off the ground in surprise, every hair stood on end. He squints as he turns towards the direction of the crash - definitely the kitchen. 

“Phobos if that’s you _please_ say something, you’re freaking me out bud.” Sung whispers through his teeth, finally reaching the edge of the kitchen island. 

Sung’s pointed ear twitches beneath the cone as he just manages to catch the smallest squeak of rubber against metal, followed by the telling pitter patter of footsteps nearby, just to his right. He whips around in an attempt to catch a glimpse of _something_ , but instead he’s faced with the eerie quiet of the hallway, still and dark as always.

Sung lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding, before turning back to the kitchen in defeat, finally examining it in more detail.

The gleam of polished stone against the pitch dark background makes it hard for Sung to piece together what he’s seeing, but the countertop is covered with crumbs of all sorts, and a large, dark smear of something against the side of the island and running down the edge.

Sung’s fingers graze the countertop as he makes his way carefully around to the main kitchen space. On the tiled floor he feels more crumbs gritting beneath his shoes, and watches as the dark smear drips down, droplets gliding down the cabinets and pooling onto the ground. 

He spots something then, from the corner of his eye, the sparkle of something metallic at the edge of the kitchen floor. Making his way through the area, careful to avoid stepping in the inky pool, he bends down to pick up the object, squinting as it gleams in his eyes. A large knife, probably one from the knife block on the counter above.

Sung’s eyes widen in confusion, and then fear.

Then the whispers return. 

This time they begin as a quiet murmur, almost one singular voice, but their volume rises as does the panic setting into Sung’s form.

They feel like they’re coming from all around him, every direction, surrounding him above and below him. Sung glances up, and the core’s soft light glints off of the small vent in the ceiling, one of many scattered through the ship. 

He closes his eyes, feeling the cool breeze blow softly down onto him, and with a deep breath, takes a few steps back and out of the kitchenette. It’s a subtle change, but Sung can hear the whispers fade slightly as he moves further and further away.

“Aha!” His eyes light up, momentarily forgetting all the noises and potentially horrifying layout of the kitchen, turning back and speed-walking back in Havve’s direction.

As he gets closer, Sung’s face falls when his core lights up the front panels of the ship to see an empty floor where he had left Havve sitting not long ago.

”God-fucking-dammit of _course_ he’s not here. Why would he be? He got eaten by the evil ghosts too. On my birthday, ye-” a sharp beeping sound from his left startles Sung out of his rambling, looking over his shoulder to see two glowing red eyes in the darkness across the cockpit, slowly approaching. 

“Havve? Oh thank the fates, I thought you’d disappeared too,” Sung exhales in relief as Havve’s familiar form steps into view, now holding a phone in his hands.

 **The ghosts are eating people now?** Despite his unchanging face, Sung can feel the smirk beneath his innocently questioning tone.

Sung rolls his eyes, looking down curiously at the device now in the cyborg’s grip. “Seriously, you got up to get your phone?”

Havve’s shoulders lift in a relaxed shrug. **You were taking forever. And I wanted a flashlight too.**

To demonstrate his point, he taps a finger on the screen and suddenly everything is much brighter, Sung bringing an arm up in front of his face to shield himself from the light being shone almost directly into his eyes. “Jeez, don’t blind a guy. I’ve only got one good eye left.”

 **Whoops, sorry.** Havve laughs heartily through their bond as he rests his phone on the ground between them, letting the light shine upwards and brighten the space around them. Little motes of dust swirl around where the air has been newly illuminated, floating up and up against the panel walls until they reach the large glass panels, like windows into the sparkling depths of space around them. 

Despite the circumstances, Sung is momentarily awestruck by the beauty of it.

He’s brought back from his thoughts at the familiar sound of Havve’s voice ringing in his mind.

 **So. I’m guessing finding Phobos didn’t go as planned.** Havve gestures at Sung’s lone form in front of him and the empty dark that surrounds them both. 

Sung’s shoulders drop, and he looks down at the ground, brow furrowed in frustration. 

“I don’t know where he could’ve possibly gone! The kitchen was a mess, I looked everywhere- I heard footsteps! But it’s like he disappeared into thin air.” Sung pouted, racking his brain for how to continue when he suddenly remembered why he came back to Havve in the first place, eyes lighting up once more.

“Oh yeah! The whispers came back, I don’t know if you heard them too, but- Anyways, at first I thought they were coming from thin air, but now I think the voices are coming from,” He pauses to tap a foot over the vent on the ground as Havve follows his motion, “these bad boys.” 

**The vents?** “Exactly! That’s why they sound like they’re coming from everywhere. They could be coming from _anywhere._ But if I’d have to guess, I mean- it’s probably coming from the basement, right? That’s where I first saw the… whatever it was.” Sung explains, the look in his eyes a familiar one to Havve. He’s got his mind set.

Havve, on the other hand, is looking increasingly nervous about this revelation. 

**I mean, you said they could be coming from anywhere. We might as well check the rest of this floor first, right?** Havve counters, glancing briefly down at the ground in front of them.

**Who knows? Phobos could’ve just gone to his room, or the washroom or- something. Besides, I don’t think either of us really want to be rushing down there...**

Sung glances into the darkness in the direction of the hallway. Thinking about the rusting stairs, the shadowy figure, Sung shudders and nods his head in agreement. 

“You’re right. Bedrooms first, then… basement.” Havve has already picked up his phone off the ground when Sung looks back at him. Flashing a quick thumbs up, Havve begins walking through the cockpit, Sung right behind him.

 **Looks like it's us two against the world again. Just like old times, right?** Havve offered with a tilt of his head, as they neared the hallway. Sung smiled at that thought, but the looming darkness in front of them was a nagging reminder of his missing friends. 

“Just like old times.”


	2. Just Like Old Times

The pair starts by searching Meouch’s room, but there’s little to be found other than scattered lego pieces and the usual clutter. 

Sung gently shuts the door behind him as he and Havve step back into the hallway.

“So that was nothing… Phobos’ room next? I mean if he’s anywhere it’d be there.” Havve nods in agreement, and they make their way across the dark hall. 

With a light pull the door slides open, lucky that neither so far have been locked. Sung peeks his head into the room, squinting to adjust to the inky darkness within. 

“Phobos?” Sung breathes out, barely more than a whisper.

The room is still, no signs of life to be seen, friendly or otherwise. 

Havve’s cool shoulder brushes past the other as he steps fully into the dark room, artificial red eye’s brightening as his optic sensors adjust. In the dim light, the room is no less void of any sign of their missing friends.

Phobos’ room is more homey than Meouch’s, with an impressively towering bookshelf across the back wall and instruments of various shapes and sizes strewn about - even a lava lamp, now dim, swirling slowly on the corner of a large desk. 

Sung walks in quickly after Havve, not wanting to be caught out alone in the hall. The room lights up further as his core is no longer obscured by the door, and Sung watches as the light catches on a variety of small shapes scattered across the desk. 

His hand brushes over the curious objects as he approaches, picking one up and holding it close to his face. Recognition flashes in his eyes. 

**What did you find?** Havve asks from across the room. Sung turns to hold the small piece in Havve’s direction.

“These are electronics… I thought Phobos hated using his powers? It’s been... _years_ since I’ve seen him touch this stuff.” Sung questions, turning again to sort through the different pieces on the desk, hoping to find some hidden answer within them.

**Maybe he’s had a change of heart? I’m sure you can ask him once we find him again…**

Havve trails off, gently reminding the other to focus on the task at hand.

“You’re right. I’ll ask him when we find him.” Sung nods his head with a sure smile.

“Welp, there’s nothing in here of use to us… your room next?” He offers, gesturing at the doorway back into the hall. Havve gives a silent nod as he briskly walks out.

Sung follows suit, sparing a last quick glance at the curious pile on his friend’s desk before sliding the door softly shut.

With the two of them standing momentarily still in the dark hall, Sung feels the pit in his stomach grow with the ever-looming thought of what lies in the basement, in the vents, and in the darkness surrounding them.

He gestures with mild panic for Havve to open the door to his room faster, pushing it open himself the moment he hears the click of the lock. 

Sung stumbles into the dark room, core illuminating his surroundings with dim blue light. He does a slow spin in place, checking for anything of note before stopping to face Havve, who’s still stood in the doorframe. 

A teasing grin tugs at Sung’s lips, “You really need to get better decorations in here, dude.” 

Havve narrows his eyes at the other, glancing around himself at the space he calls his own. It’s nothing special, but it’s certainly not as offensive as Sung’s mocking face of disapproval makes it out to be. 

He steps further into the room, feeling the familiar plush of his carpet against his feet, watching Sung as he pokes around at the various things he has lying around.

His room is a bit barren, sure. The walls are empty save for the strips of lights draped from corner to corner, usually bathing the room in a soft reddish-pink hue. His desk is empty save for two small succulents he has resting next to each other in neat little pots. Phobos had given them both names at some point, but Havve couldn’t remember for the life of him what they were.

From the corner of his eye he watched as Sung picked up the lone picture frame sitting on his bedside table, letting out a sharp gasp. 

Sung turns to him quickly, “Oh my god Havve, of all of the pictures to have framed why _this_ one?” He whines with an embarrassed grimace now painting his face. 

Havve would be rolling his eyes at him if he could. He already knows the picture Sung’s referring to, but he grabs the frame from Sung’s hands to look at it again nonetheless. 

The picture isn't a recent one to say the least - almost a decade old now if Havve is remembering correctly. In it are four figures, arms thrown excitedly around each other in casual embrace, big smiles painting their faces as they pose for the camera. Sung had certainly changed the most appearance-wise, his curly hair cropped short and face lacking of his now signature facial hair, wearing a t-shirt with some unrecognizable earthen pop culture graphic on it. 

_Some things never change_ , Havve smiles to himself. He shifts his gaze to his younger self - posture timid and closed off, then to Meouch and Phobos, who are stood on either side of the group, their smiles bright, but wary. _Tense._ Havve remembers those days.

_But some things do._

He smiles at the thought of his friends, his family, of memories new and old. Havve chuckles, knowing Sung can hear it echo through their shared bond. 

The other glances at him curiously as he sets the frame gently back in its spot on the bedside table.

 **C’mon, it's not _that_ bad. **Sung’s sighs and shakes his head in disagreement. 

Havve laughs a little louder at that. **Ready to go? Just your room left to check now.**

Sung nods, giving a quick thumbs up before starting to walk back through the room.

A loud _thump_ rings out as Havve watches his friend just barely catch himself from falling face first into the carpeted floor. 

“Ow- What in the worlds was that?” Sung yells in shock, momentarily forgetting that they’re meant to be keeping quiet. As Sung orients himself, Havve looks down to see a large rectangular box poking out from where it was tucked beneath his bed. 

Stepping quickly in front of the object, Havve gives it a swift kick with the back of his heel, sliding it fully under the bed and out of sight.

Sung whips his head around looking for the culprit, but now finds nothing. 

Havve forcibly relaxes himself before continuing down towards the door, glancing back at the other.

 **Did you just trip on the carpet?** Havve asks with a laugh, and Sung glares at him from beneath the visor. 

“I am _not_ clumsy enough for that. I swear there was something solid I must’ve hit.” Sung glances back one last time at the empty floor before Havve shuts the door behind them both, leaving them in the hall once more.

**Whatever you say, birthday boy.**

Sung sighs in defeat, walking across the hall to slide the final door, his own, open. He stops briefly when a quiet chime plays from behind him. Turning towards the noise Sung see’s Havve standing with his phone in hand, staring intently at the screen. He quickly turns it off before shoving it back in his pocket, waving his hand dismissively at the other’s concern. 

“How are you even getting notifications right now? The signal is as dead as the ship.” Sung questions, confused.

 **I think my phone’s glitched. Maybe because it was connected to the ship when everything went haywire?** Havve shrugs noncommittally, and Sung drops the subject, turning his attention back to the door. It slides open without second thought, he rarely has reason to lock it anymore these days. 

The small, dimly lit space, mess and all, is comforting to him. He steps into the familiar surroundings, smiling at the array of earthen wonders he’s collected - now decorating his abode. 

Posters cover the walls, saturated with bright colours and featuring humans in various intense action poses. 

“See Havve, now _this_ is decoration. I could even lend you a poster or two if you like any of the-”

Sung’s smug ramblings are cut off by a loud _SLAM_ from out of view. He whips around to see the door shut behind him, Havve nowhere to be seen. 

He rushes quickly to the door, going to pull the handle and freezing when it doesn’t budge. 

He pulls again, harder this time - still nothing.

Worry fills his voice as he starts to bang on the door, trying to push it open by force. 

“Havve? _Havve?”_

The loud banging of the door being hit over and over fills the space, but no response from the other.

“Havve this isn’t funny, _open the door!_ ” Sung’s heart is pounding in his chest, his core pulsing to match - light flickering as dread fills his whole body.

 **Shit. _Shit._** Sung’s eyes light up as he hears his friend through their bond. Banging on the door with renewed fervor. 

“ _Havve! Are you okay!? Can you open the door!? I can help!_ ” Sung pleas, continuing to throw his whole body weight into the cool metal until-

_Snap._

Sung is suddenly free from the room and stumbling out into the hall - the force of his previous efforts sending him sprawling onto the ground, wincing at the sting of bare skin dragged across the floor. 

The door behind him is now sitting loose in its frame, and in the darkness Sung can just barely make out the shape of something lying on the ground an arm’s length away. Reaching for it blindly, he flinches back as his fingers accidentally graze across something sharp. 

Gritting his teeth he tries again, this time managing to grip onto something smooth and finds himself holding one of Havve’s drumsticks.

More accurately, a _piece_ of Havve’s drumstick, as one end has been severed from the rest in a jagged, splintery point. 

Sung inhales sharply, fearing what the object resting heavy in his hand meant of his missing friend. 

Slowly picking himself off the ground, he glances around in hopes of catching any glimpse of where Havve has gone, flinching at the dull throbbing pain in his arms and knees from where he fell. 

The hall is quiet, the darkness beyond the reach of his flickering core still and empty as always. Sung, now keenly aware of how alone he is, backs up slowly to press himself to the wall, eyes flickering quickly around himself, daring something to reach for him from the shadows.

When nothing comes, he lets out a huff and slides down against the wall to sit on the cool floor, arms coming to rest on his knees in defeat. 

Sung sits quietly, fingers twirling the broken drumstick around as if second nature to him. His mind is racing trying to come up with an answer to all of this, _anything_ that could help him out.

He rests his chin in his hand, fingers tapping lightly across the hard plastic of his chinstrap before stopping abruptly. 

It was standard protocol to keep armour and helmets on during regular missions, but Sung finds himself carefully undoing the clasps and slowly slipping the cone off his head, resting it on the ground next to him.

 _It hasn’t been a regular mission in a while._ Sung sighs to himself and shakes his head lightly, letting his hair fall back from where it had matted down under the cone. 

Closing his eyes and clasping his hands together around the drumstick still held between them, he takes a deep breath - brow furrowed in concentration. 

“ _This is usually a one way street, but if there’s any time for some hidden special powers to kick in it would be now, right?_ ” He mutters to himself, letting his emotions flow freely out from where the cone usually keeps them bottled in - the fear, worry, hope, all of it - and waiting for some miracle signal to be sent back in return. 

It’s quiet, both in his mind and in the air around him. The spark of a sudden noise excites him just as much as it terrifies.

It’s unintelligible, a cacophony of overlapping sound and his face drops as the whispers grow louder and more malicious to his ears. 

“Stupid fucking _vents!”_ Sung slams a fist down onto the ground beside him in frustration, hissing as it collides with a ledge of cold metal. The voices stop abruptly as the loud ringing of metal echoes all around. 

He looks down in surprise at where his hand now lay, now resting directly over another vent grate on the floor. The ringing eventually stops and Sung stays squinting at it, waiting for the strange voices to return - but nothing.

Using the wall as leverage Sung climbs up from where he was sitting, never taking his eyes off the vent. 

“Only one more place to check, right Havve?” Sung says into the emptiness surrounding him. Steeling himself, grip firm on the jagged drumstick, he begins his slow approach to the stairs.

The descent downwards feels like an eternity, every small creak of the metal steps beneath him followed by utter stillness as he waits for something to jump him from the dark. Sung can feel his heart beating rapidly in time with the glow of his core like it’s going to leap out of his chest at any moment. 

His feet finally step onto the solid ground of the cool basement, still as dark as the last time he was here. He approaches the void of the larger room with one hand grazing along the side of the narrow hallway for some sense of stability, the other ready with his makeshift weapon for any sudden movements. 

He stops when his fingertips no longer graze against the wall to his side - now standing at the edge of the hallway spilling out into what seems like an endless darkness. 

His ears twitch at the slightest hint of rustling movement from somewhere in the dark. Sung jumps, heart leaping out of his chest, but still manages to point himself in the direction of the noise, straining his eyes to see anything in the darkness to no avail.

Realizing that he’s unintentionally stepped further into the room, he goes to take a step back - whole body bristling as he feels his shoulder brush up against something featherlight, that wasn’t there before. 

A shrill scream rings through the room, Sung’s body moving faster than his mind as he slashes wildly in the direction of the foreign object - years of combat training forgotten in this moment fueled by pure fear and adrenaline.

Sung feels something snag on the drumstick and a loud _POP_ sounds through the room immediately following, making him jump backwards at the noise as multiple screams are heard throughout the room, including his own.

_Wait-_

_**Shit.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's ignore that this is being posted at 4:30am, shall we?  
> (But the last chapter should be up later today, after I've finally gotten some sleep :P)  
> Hope y'all enjoy <3


	3. Together Again, At Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lets goooooo

Sung freezes as his mind desperately tries to catch up to his pounding heart.

A moment passes where everything is silent and still and Sung is desperately trying to catch his breath- and then the overhead lights flicker on.

“ _SURPRISE!_ ” 

Sung has been in the dark for so long that at first everything is just blinding - his cybernetic eye working overtime to adjust to the jarring shift. 

With the drumstick clattering to the ground, he instinctively reaches his hands up in front of his eyes to block out the harsh artificial lights from above him. Sung is still trying to process the events of the last thirty seconds or so when he’s suddenly enveloped by warmth - a lot of it. He’s not even sure his feet are touching the ground anymore.

He squints to open his eyes and his jaw drops at what he sees around him.

“Friends!” he can’t help but exclaim as looks around as best he can at everyone from where he’s being held from all directions.

Phobos. Meouch. They’re here and they’re _safe_. And not only them, but Dylan and Josh and even Rob and Richare standing further back with Havve as they watch the others attack him in warm embrace. 

Sung reaches his arms out best he can to reciprocate the welcome affection, looping one arm around Meouch and the other around Dylan. 

“I- I…” Sung stammers, incredulous, the emotional whiplash of the past few minutes short circuiting his brain. He decides to start simply by greeting everyone, and turns to face Dylan - shocked to see tears starting to fall down the other’s smiling face. 

His own face bunches into concern at the sight. “Wait- Are you okay? Why-” Sung stops himself as he’s suddenly aware of the wet streaks of tears down his own face. 

“Oh - shit. I didn’t even realize, sorry,” he sniffles softly, “ _Sorry- oh my fates this is embarrassing”_ Sung rambles as he quickly reaches up to wipe away the tears, laughing incredulously at himself and at _everything_. 

“I don’t even _know_ why I’m crying. This is just a lot- like five minutes ago I thought you were possessed, _or_ _dead-”_ Sung can barely get it out without laughing again, when Dylan pulls back from the group to look accusingly between them and Havve. 

“What in the worlds did you three tell this poor man? You are officially _banned_ from planning any future surprise parties. _Dead?”_ Dylan starts, and Sung watches as Meouch scratches his arm sheepishly before turning to him.

The rest of them let Sung go from the tight embrace, letting him find his footing on the ground once more. 

“I don’t know _what_ happened, dude. Everything was going smoothly until the _lights_ went out!” Meouch gestures to Havve expectantly. The others begin to spread throughout the room, chatting amongst themselves and glancing at their hard work for the first time out of the dark. Sung’s eyes wander across the room for a moment, seeing tables set up with food and gifts, the walls even decorated with balloons and streamers, when he feels Havve sigh through their bond.

He turns to look at the other, who hasn’t yet moved from his spot across the room.

**Everything _was_ going fine, I think my tinkering interfered with the ship a little more than I intended it to - the ship was supposed to stop so we could give the others our coordinates, the lights were an... unexpected addition. **Havve reaches a hand up to his shoulder as he speaks. 

Sung can’t do anything but nod and follow along, still in shock as his mind wizzes through the events of the last few hours with this new information in hand. 

“So the plan _wasn’t_ to make me think that you’d all gotten picked off and eaten by evil ghosts?” Sung offers a small smile, which seems to settle some of the nerves seeping through the other. 

Havve laughs, **No not at all! When you started going on about ghosts- We didn’t know what to do! I couldn’t deny it without giving ourselves away, but I certainly didn’t want you thinking anyone had _died._**

Sung laughs at that, leaning up against the wall next to the other to continue talking. “I mean everyone is fine now, and that’s what matters, right?”

He can still see the worry in Havve’s otherwise blank eyes. 

**Are you sure? I’m still really sor-**

“Thank you.” Sung interrupts, prompting Havve to cock his head curiously at him. 

“Haunted ship and all - thank you, really. Anything beats another gods-awful scouting mission, right?” Sung grins.

Havve’s eyes brighten in a smile. **I mean-** he laughs, **I certainly can’t argue with that.**

Sung smiles even wider, glad to see that his longest friend was no longer feeling too guilty about everything, especially after putting all that effort into wrangling all their closest friends together to celebrate. 

Havve tenses momentarily as he feels Sung’s arms wrap around his own arms and torso in a tight embrace, scrunching his face up in a smile before letting go. 

“I’m gonna go say hello to everyone properly now! Don’t let me catch you sulking around in the corner alone, okay?” And with that he’s gone, already rushing off to ambush Josh and Rob in another squeezing hug. 

Havve laughs to himself and shakes his head at the antics. 

-

After greeting everyone again with crushing embraces, Sung finds himself sitting up on the gift table, sipping on sickeningly sweet punch while he listens to Dylan and Rich recount tales of their recent escapades. 

“It ended up working out perfectly, right? Then the Commander reached out to invite us all to this shindig and bam! We were already travelling together,” Dylan finishes, the iridescent scales on his waving hands glittering underneath the festive lights. 

“The Fates work in mysterious ways...” Rich finishes with a waggle of his fingers, Dylan nodding enthusiastically in agreement. 

Sung hears a snort of laughter next to him and turns to see Phobos - helmet long since discarded and green hair tied out of his face - snickering to himself about something. 

Dylan looks curiously at him too, prompting Phobos to finally elaborate on what he finds so funny. 

“Gods, don’t call him _The Commander_ \- its soformal _,_ ” Phobos, ever the dramatic, pretends to gag at the words, just as Meouch approaches the group, alreading rolling his eyes. 

He grins, bearing his sharp teeth in the process. “Why not, _my Lord_ ” he says in the most nonsensically posh voice he can muster - which sends Phobos into another fit of laughter, this time with Sung right along with him.

Sung’s legs kick out underneath him as he laughs, shoving at Meouch lightly between loud laughter, “Oh my fates _stop- Meouch that’s even worse.”_

Everyone’s laughing then, when a thought pops into the forefront of Sung’s mind abruptly. 

_This is perfect,_ Sung thinks to himself with a smile, still shaking off the last of his giggles. 

He takes a moment to catch his breath before looking around himself, a curious glint in his eyes. 

As the laughter finally dies down, Sung starts, “So… Can I open my gifts now?” He pauses with a big grin. 

“No way!” Sung pouts at Phobos’ sudden deceleration, causing the latter to roll his eyes. “Cake before gifts, Sung! You know the rules.” 

“Since when is that a rule?” Sung whines, looking to the others for backup only to be met with shaking heads and looks of amusement. 

Sung gapes, “Seriously? It’s _my_ birthday.” Phobos ignores him in favour of walking towards the other table and setting up to light the candles, giving Sung no choice but to reluctantly follow. 

Sung’s eyes light up as he quickly reaches for Phobos’ arm, “Wait- At least let Rich light them!” Sung bounces on his toes excitedly. 

Someone dims the overhead lights, only the colourful flashing of the party lights set up in the corner illuminating the room. Everyone gathers around the table, and Rich reaches a hand out for Phobos to hand him the lighter.

Sung’s pleading eyes meet his gaze through the visor and he drops his hand to his side. “Oh! You mean-” Rich laughs quietly to himself, “Yeah that makes more sense.”

Phobos and Sung both take a step back to watch as a small spark ignites from Rich’s fingertip as he points it towards the first candlewick, watching it swirl and dance in the air as it leaps from candle to candle until they’re all ignited in sparkling blue light.

Sung sighs to himself, pure awe radiating off of him in waves, “god that never gets old.” Someone chuckles from behind him as he approaches the table again.

The cake isn’t professional by any means - Phobos had quite proudly boasted to him earlier how he made it all himself - which explains the disastrous state of their kitchen earlier. 

It was shaped, albeit a bit crudely, like a shooting star - a bright yellow base extending out into a messy rainbow trail, with a handful of candles placed randomly throughout. 

The rest of them sing a quite frankly horrendous rendition of happy birthday before Sung blows the candles out in a single giant breath.

Sung turns to his friends with a giant grin on his face, mirrored in the faces of his friends. 

“Man, for a bunch of musicians, that was _awful_.” Sung exclaimed with a laugh, bracing himself for the groans and eyerolls. 

“Nothing is good enough for you, huh?” Josh teases with a blindingly bright smile.

“Nope. I have very high standards.” Sung nods solemnly, playing along.

The other shrugs to himself, “Guess we’ll just have to try it again then-” He’s interrupted by a panicked laugh and hands on both shoulders, “No, _no_. That was just a joke, your singing was flawless, so _please never do that again._ ” Sung finishes hurriedly, breaking character as he lets out a laugh, Josh joining him. 

Meouch approaches the two of them with a slice of cake in either hand, “You two are idiots. Want cake?”, sighing as the two just start laughing again. 

Josh takes a piece, but Sung shakes his head to the other’s surprise.

“After,” Sung clarifies, looking over at the gift table again excitedly, “I wanna open gifts first.”

They end up carrying the gifts over to where the couches are set up so that everyone has a place to sit. 

He starts with Rich’s gift, tearing through the tissue paper and reaching into the large plain bag - pulling out a small potted plant with large but otherwise innocuous green leaves. 

The pot itself has little yellow and green patterns etched into it, and Sung is studying it intensely when he sees Rich lean into view, before tapping his finger lightly against the foliage. Sung startles backwards as the green leaves suddenly burst with colourful swirls, creating intricate patterns across the large green canvas. 

Sung is awestruck, eyes wide as his mouth curls into a wide smile, and Rich laughs. “Alocasia Specula, or the uh, Mirror Tree-” he can’t even finish before more leaves shoot upwards, growing with supernatural speed as they bloom in a rainbow of colours in front of everyone. 

“I- I didn’t even touch it yet!” Sung exclaims, incredulous. Rich laughs again, nodding his head. 

“I had a feeling it might work a bit differently with you, cool to see it in action though- it’s really something else,” Rich finishes calmly. 

Sung turns to him, absolutely beaming, setting the pot down gently before leaning forward to hug the other. “I’m glad you like it!” Rich adds with a smile.

“Like it? This is insane! This is the coolest gift I’ve _ever_ gotten!”

“Hey wait a minute- you haven’t even opened ours yet,” Dylan adds jokingly, making Sung roll his eyes. 

“You guys try it then and tell me it’s not the _coolest_ thing you’ve ever seen.” Sung finishes. 

They pass the plant around the group, watching and cheering on with wonder as the plant swirls and morphs to everyone’s touch.

Havve studies the plant now sat in his lap as it swirls outward in bright purples and blues, when Phobos chimes in. 

“Oh, Mirror Tree! So it’s...Mirroring our emotions back at us?” He ponders, and Rich nods in agreement. 

“Like a mood ring.” Rob adds, causing heads to turn to him in confusion. He continues, “they’re originally from Earth, I think? It’s a ring, and it changes colour based on your mood! Except not really- because it’s just temperature activated and-” 

“That’s so cool! Man, I want a mood ring…” Sung pouts to himself, and Meouch rolls his eyes.

“Sung I can _guarantee_ you that plant is a million times cooler than a fuckin’ mood ring.” 

Rob laughs in agreement, and Sung stops sulking. 

“Guess that’ll just have to be your next birthday gift,” Rich teases, and Sung flies into an apology and _how_ _cool the plant is and he really doesn’t need to go all the way to earth to get him a mood ring and-_ suddenly everyone is laughingagain.

They move onto the Booty Trio’s gift next, which comes as three separate boxes wrapped neatly with glittery wrapping paper that Sung devastatingly rips into. 

“That shit is gonna be _everywhere_ dude, have fun finding glitter in your pockets for months,” Meouch groans, and Josh turns to him with a shit-eating grin. 

“You say that like it’s a _bad_ thing.” Josh counters, flicking a puff of fine glitter towards the other and watching Meouch panic to swat it away.

They both turn back as they hear a loud gasp from Sung, who is now holding a blindingly sparkling article of clothing in his hands. Barely containing his excitement, he sets it down to quickly unwrap the others, finding equally extravagant garments in each box.

Sung starts to carefully unfold the clothing, inspecting every corner and seam, when Dylan ushers him up, piling the rest of the gift in his hands.

“There’s no time for analyzing, Sung! _Put it on_!” He exclaims loudly, almost frantic, spinning the other around and towards the bathroom. 

Sung just grins and shakes his head with a laugh, but complies nonetheless as he rushes to change into his new outfit.

The others wait in giddy excitement for him to exit. A few minutes pass, and Phobos yells out towards the closed door, “Hurry _up_ Sung! Havve won’t let us have seconds until gifts are opened.” Havve shoots him a look, but can’t help it as his shoulders shake in laughter at the other.

They’re all giggling when, out of the corner of his eye, Rich spots movement from outside of the bathroom. He turns and gestures silently, everyone else following his gaze to see-

“Holy SHIT dude, that is something else.” Meouch exclaims as they all get a first glance at Sung walking towards them.

With a hop in his step, Sung spins around, landing on the heels of his light-up shoes as he holds the opening of his jacket out with both hands - all with a massive grin across his face. 

The entire thing is covered in fine black glitter, from the cropped suit jacket to the tapered pants. Beneath the jacket lay a simple black tank top, somehow structured but still breathable, with an expertly cut window that just allowed the shape of the core to poke through and reflect its light off the millions of fine sparkles. 

“What do ya think?” He asks the group curiously, and Dylan is already climbing over the back of the couch to inspect more closely. 

“Look at you!” he exclaims, gesturing for the shorter to spin and show everyone the back more closely. Sung does, and hears exclamations of excitement as he reveals the embroidered, glittering star across the back of the jacket, with a multicoloured tail stretching down to the bottom of it. 

He turns around again to give Dylan another crushing embrace, still absolutely beaming at the gift. 

“Hey, you guys are matching!” Rich observes, and the two of them pull away to glance at Dylan’s ensemble - which is indeed similar in its cut, but in a sparkling silvery blue instead of black. 

Dylan laughs, flipping imaginary hair over his shoulder, “What can I say, it’s a good look!”

Sung rolls his eyes before glancing over at the rest of his friends who are all giving similar thumbs up and nods of approval. 

“I swear the shooting star cake wasn’t intentional-” Phobos starts, “You do kind of have a brand, though.” Rob finishes for him with a grin.

Sung scoffs in mock offense,”Hey, I like what I like!” 

Rob and Phobos both laugh before Havve chimes in, **I’ll admit, I think this is the first time I’ve seen the rest of your outfit _match_ the light-ups. **

Sung whips his head over to face Havve, mouth open in shock, “Wha- Rude! The light-ups go with _everything._ ” Looking around for backup, he watches his friends reluctantly smile and nod with him. 

“None of you have taste, clearly.” 

“Well I think the light-ups are a great fit for you” Dylan offers, and Sung smiles. 

“Okay but seriously, thank you three for this. It’s incredible,” he lifts an arm up and lets the glitter shift in the colourful light before continuing, “and it feels amazing. I don’t think I’m ever going to take it off.” Sung hugs himself comfortably to demonstrate his point. 

“We’re glad you’re happy with it!” Rob responds, “and I’m glad it fits!” Josh adds with a breathless laugh.

“Well now,” Dylan reaches a pointed finger over to the other, tapping his chest where the core lay for emphasis, “the outside matches the inside!” he finishes with a grin. 

As the conversation settles, Sung glances down at the table in front of them, a single gift, a large rectangular box in plain wrapping, left.

**Go ahead.** Havve laughs, watching his friend’s eyes attempt to bore straight through the wrapping to see what was inside. 

This one is hefty - nothing Sung can’t handle of course, but hefty.

He pulls it into his lap before tearing through the wrapping, revealing a featureless black box. Sung sits back for a moment, turning the smooth box in his hands looking for a tag or label, anything to clue him in as to what lies inside. 

Finding nothing, he begins to carefully open the lid. Finally, his eyes reach the wonder inside, now resting on what might possibly be the most beautiful thing Sung’s ever seen in his life.

Surrounded by dark padding lay a shining and polished instrument. Sung’s fingers danced over it’s weighted keys in black and white, then to the dozens of buttons and knobs, then finally to the long neck of the instrument - what made it so special in the first place.

“A KEYTAR! You guys found a freaking _keytar,_ by the fates how on Earth, wait-” Sung’s mind is once again flying miles a second - this time full of nothing but joy and elation, glancing between his three dearest friends, “There’s no way you guys flew all the way to Earth to get this, it’s so far and they’d never let us and-” Sung pauses to pick up the instrument and to catch his breath, pulling the soft strap over his head and adjusting the way it sat against him. 

Fates, it felt like an extension of Sung himself as he moved around with it, fingers tapping out the ghost of a song across it’s keys. Sung can only stand in quiet awe as his other hand reaches up to hold the neck of the instrument, sliding across the glossy white plastic, still almost disbelieving of its existence in front of him.

Phobos chuckles as he reaches over, hitting a switch and suddenly the keyboard is lighting up from beneath itself, threads of rainbow light running through the entire thing.

Sung stares in silent amazement before turning to Phobos. “Just… _How?_ ”

A proud smile spreads across the other’s face. 

“You can thank Phobos mostly, for that.” Meouch pipes in, swinging an arm across Sung’s shoulders and dragging him into a side embrace, careful not to bump the gift still slung across him. 

“Don’t say that, it was a team effort! I couldn’t have done it without you, or Havve!” Phobos, countered. “I might have put it together but you two did all the research, Gods know I’m lost when it comes to Earthen paraphernalia,” he shrugs. 

Sung watches as Havve approaches the rest of them, stopping to stand next to Phobos with a smile and a patient robotic hum that echoes through their bond. Sung quirks an eyebrow in confusion, waiting for the other to explain himself, when it clicks and his hands shoot out in front of him with sudden clarity.

“The _desk_!” he spins around to face Phobos with bright eyes, losing the warm fluff of Meouch’s arm as it falls from his shoulders at the sudden movement. 

“You- you used your technomancy to build this?” he asked excitedly, gesturing down at the keytar still hanging against his torso. 

Phobos grinned shily, nodding his head. “The outer plastic was done by a professional, but yeah, I did! I’m really rusty at it, at this point I could learn a thing or two from you-” He’s cut off as Sung wraps his arms around him, careful not to squish the delicate details of the instrument between the two.

Sung lunges at Havve next, then back to Meouch, holding each of them in as tight of an embrace as he can manage without damaging his new instrument. 

“You look like a real rockstar now, that’s for sure,” Josh comments teasingly, but it’s true. Sung catches a glimpse of himself in the warped shine of Rich’s visor, Glittering from head to toe and smiling embarrassingly wide as he grips the keytar with renewed energy. 

_One day._ Sung smiles to himself, pausing to take in the laughter and glimmering lights and pounding music all around him.

He reaches behind himself, smoothly pulling the strap back over his head before carefully laying the instrument back in its casing as gently as he’s able. 

“What, you’re not going to try it out first?” Meouch groans, and he looks around to see the rest of his friends waiting expectantly. 

Sung laughs at their expressions, hand rubbing against the back of his neck as he feels his stomach rumble, “I’m actually kind of hungry now, I think I’m gonna go grab a piece of cake first,” he explains, watching as everyone begins to groan and squirm impatiently. 

“Don’t wait for me to try it out! Just don’t break anything!” Sung finishes with a grin, watching his friends scramble to call first dibs as he swings his legs over the back of the couch and begins walking to tables on the other side of the room. 

Before he makes it over he hears Phobos exclaim from behind him, “Oh, she needs a name!” in reference to the shining instrument. Sung laughs, but starts thinking to himself nonetheless. 

“I’ll come up with something!” he shouts from across the room as he leans against the table, reaching for the untouched slice sitting on a bright yellow paper plate. 

Sitting with his back up against the table, Sung hears a familiar chime past the blaring music as he eats.

“I did not have a part in the hijinks your crewmates had planned, but I will be logging in the ship’s database that the scouting mission was uneventful.” Angel’s soothing, robotic tone rings in his ears.

“Happy Birthday, Doctor.” The voice disappears with another chime, leaving Sung alone with his thoughts and a wide smile.

Sung glances back at the couches, at his friends from across the galaxy all leaning in amazement over the keytar as buzzing synth sounds are plunked out on the keys. He wouldn’t trade this moment for the world. 

Havve catches his gaze from across the room and gives a quizzical tilt of the head, motioning for Sung to come join the group.

“ _Thank you,_ Angel.” Sung smiles, before taking the first step back towards his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap!! This was such a fun piece to work on and a wonderful challenge to be a part of! Another huge thanks to my artist and mixer (@MutagenZombie and @EvilEidolons on twitter, respectfully!)   
> You can find the amazing art here: https://twitter.com/twrpbb2020/status/1332406495833690119?s=20 and listen to the playlist here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2Fbckx4De2AB5YsmIKZPc2?si=y-snxaC7SHu7566Ar1hJ2w !!!!!
> 
> Comments are much appreciated <3

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in the same universe as Holding Out for a Hero (albeit in a very different part of the timeline :3)! Now that this fun project is coming to an end I will be getting back to that poor neglected brainchild of mine. 
> 
> Also -and I figured I'd point this out because I have no idea how obvious this reference is- The Ship AI - Angel's name is meant to be a play on the old tour van, Vangelis! (It's not a perfect reference because the pronunciation is different but I tried okay?)


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